


Sleepwalking

by thefangirlingdead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Losing Time, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Riding, Sleepwalking, i dont even know what to tag this as, i guess slight somnophilia, kind of, mild panic attack, sort of, stiles just isn't really all there, they both want it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefangirlingdead/pseuds/thefangirlingdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' nightmares and sleepwalking progressively get worse until he's losing time. In this case, he comes-to on Derek's dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepwalking

**Author's Note:**

> This is so cracky and last minute and it's late and I don't even know what's going on, but I've been wanting to write something like this for a little while, so here you go! Also, not completely proofread, so if you find any mistakes, please let me know!

Stiles doesn't remember how he got to Derek's. Well, he does, but it's mostly a blur. These days, it's getting harder and harder for him to tell what's a dream and what's not, so when he opens his eyes to find that he's climbing out of his car, barefoot and still only clad in his pajama pants and a t-shirt, he just closes them again, allowing the dream to continue. Because it is a _dream_ , right?

The nightmares started almost two months ago. After them came the sleepwalking and the loosing time. He'd wake up in the front seat of his jeep - engine not running, thankfully - his father pounding on the window, begging him to wake up. Other times, it was like a blink of an eye. One moment, he'd be sitting in class, having a conversation with Scott, feeling normal, and the next, he'd be eating dinner with his dad.

The nightmares and the sleepwalking scare him, but it's loosing time that's the worst. Knowing that he's still up, awake and walking around, driving, and doing normal, every-day things that he can't even remember absolutely terrifies him. It's finding the mysterious key in his pocket, finding _his_ writing on that chalkboard that terrifies him the most. Who wouldn't be a little freaked out about that?

The worst part about losing time is he doesn't even know it's happening until he finally comes to. He doesn't even realize what he's done - what he's doing - until he investigates it later.

So Stiles doesn't remember walking barefoot up to Derek's door and knocking on it, softly, three times. He doesn't remember standing patiently outside, waiting for him to answer, shivering slightly at the cold.

He doesn't remember a slightly grumpy, half-awake Derek Hale opening up his front door at two in the morning, eyes widening when he saw who was on the other side.

"Stiles?" He asks sleepily. He rubs his eyes, blinking them a few times before looking the kid up and down. He's got to be freezing. He's not even wearing shoes, let alone a coat. Suddenly, Derek's worried. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Stiles replies, and Derek notices almost immediately how far away - not quite there - his voice sounds. How vacant his eyes look. "Can I come in?"

Derek narrows his eyes in confusion, but steps aside, allowing Stiles to walk past him into his apartment. He shuts and locks the door behind them, flicking on a couple of lights as he leads the way inside. "Do you want a blanket or something?" He asks, glancing over his shoulder. Something isn't quite right about the way that Stiles is acting and he wants to get to the bottom of it, but first, he feels like he should make sure the kid doesn't die of hypothermia.

Part of him thinks that Stiles should be laughing at his offer. He really has settled down over the past few months. His living room even has a couch, for heaven's sake...

"I'm alright, thanks," Stiles replies, and again, his voice has that empty, far away sound to it.

Finally, it clicks.

"Stiles," Derek says, voice a little hard. Stern. He turns so they're facing and he looks the kid up and down. Even in the dim light, it's suddenly very clear. Why he's not wearing shoes or a jacket. Why he showed up at his doorstep at two in the morning.

They haven't really discussed it much, but he's been made aware that Stiles doesn't have complete control over his body - that he's been doing things that he doesn't even remember doing lately. The problem is, nobody has ever been around to witness it. That, or they haven't noticed. But the empty look in Stiles' eyes is a dead giveaway to Derek. "Are you losing time?"

He's not sure what he expects when he asks the question, but it's definitely not the response he gets.

Seconds after the words leave Derek's mouth, Stiles eyes widen, terrified. He sucks in a shallow breath, then another, and another. Soon, he's slumping forward, clutching his chest, and Derek quickly realizes that he's having a panic attack. He steps forward, arms outstretched to help, and just in time, because that's when Stiles practically collapses forward.

Thankfully, Derek moves quickly, catching him and kneeling on the ground with him. Stiles wheezes for air in his arms and he watches him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do or say. Of course, this had to happen when nobody else was around. And he wouldn't dare leave Stiles like this to go grab his phone...

"Hey..." Derek soothes, voice as soft as he can make it, "Whoa... Stiles, you're okay."

Stiles looks up at him at that, eyes wide, almost pleading.

"Deep breaths," Derek murmurs, reaching up to pull some of the hair out of Stiles' face, "You need to breathe. Can you do that for me?"

Stiles shakes his head back and forth - no, apparently he can't - and Derek wants to panic, but he can't. Not when one of them already is. "In," He says instead, voice soft as he takes a deep breath, as if showing Stiles what to do. "And out."

Thankfully, it seems to work, because Stiles manages to suck in a deep breath, holding it for a couple seconds before letting it out in a shaky exhale. He repeats the action a few times, and Derek rubs a few comforting circles into his back, watching him.

"That's good," He praises, managing a smile when Stiles looks back up at him, eyes still wide, "You're doing good. You're alright."

"I'm sorry," Stiles wheezes, and at that, he leans forward even more, burying his head into Derek's chest without another word.

Derek freezes, unsure of what to do for a moment - he's not even sure if the two of them have ever hugged before - but when he realizes that Stiles needs the comfort, he wraps his arms around him gently, holding him still. Stiles' form trembles underneath him and Derek takes a few deep breaths, trying to coax some of out of him as well.

"You're alright," Derek soothes, hand rubbing small circles into Stiles' back, "It's okay."

And then, before Derek even knows what's happening, Stiles reaching up, grabbing his shirt tightly in his hands and pulling him down, _down_ , until he's pressing their lips roughly together.

Derek's immediate reaction is to jerk back - the last thing that he should be doing is _kissing_ the kid right now, especially when he's still on the verge of a panic attack - but Stiles keeps his grip on his shirt with one hand, the other snaking around to secure him in place at the back of his head. And while Derek knows that this isn't right - this isn't right, Stiles was losing time and he still could be - he still allows Stiles to part his lips, deepening the kiss.

It's sloppy and sleepy, but it's _something,_ and thankfully, after a few seconds of tongue and teeth and Stiles sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, the kid pulls away.

"Stiles-" Derek starts, but then the teen is standing, shedding his shirt and tossing it on the floor. And Derek can't help but sit for a moment, staring up at him before gathering his senses again. He stands as well, putting his hands out in a form of telling Stiles to stop.

"Are you okay? You were losing time and-"

"I'm fine," Stiles insists, but still, his voice sounds sleepy, not all there. He takes a step forward and Derek takes a step back.

" _Stiles_ ," Derek presses, tone hard, "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to. And if you're losing time-"

"I'm not losing time," Stiles says, cutting him off, and while his voice sounds a little steadier, Derek isn't completely sure if he buys it. He'd be into it, yeah, but that doesn't mean he'd take advantage of Stiles, not now. Not ever.

"I want this," Stiles adds, as if he can read Derek's mind. He takes another step forward, reaching his arms out, and this time, Derek doesn't take a step back. He lets Stiles close the gap between them, fingers coming to rest lightly on his waist.

And with the hope that he's not making a _huge_ mistake, Derek swallows and nods. "Me too."

Stiles is reaching up at that, fisting his shirt in his hands once more and pulling him down for another kiss.

* * *

  


When Stiles comes-to, the first sensation he feels is confusion, followed by panic, dull pain, and overwhelming pleasure. 

He realizes, as he slowly transitions back into reality, that he's moving, bouncing slowly, up and down, and his fingers are gripping onto something that feels suspiciously like warm, naked skin. His eyes fly open at that, and while things are blurry at first - his body still trying to wake up - he realizes that the blurry shape of someone is below him, that he's holding onto their shoulders, and that the person is thrusting up _into_ him.

And while Stiles' first reaction is to panic - to freak out and run - there's a pair of arms secured tightly around his waist, holding him in place, and when his vision finally returns to normal, he realizes that those arms belong to none other than Derek Hale. _Derek Hale_ is thrusting up into him, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the open room.

His mind is still groggy, still struggling to catch up, but he knows three things. One, that he's in Derek's apartment on his couch, and it’s the middle of the night. Two, that _Derek_ is underneath him, eyes closed and face twisted up in pleasure. And three, that he's _having sex_ with Derek, moving up and down on his cock on a steady rhythm.

He's hard, leaking, actually, and while his fingers bite into the skin on Derek's shoulders, his entire body tensing at the realization at what's going on, he also can't deny that he wants this. He can't say that he hasn't thought about this before.

_But_ -

But suddenly, Derek is stilling underneath him, eyes flying open.

Stiles realizes belatedly that his fingernails have broken the skin on Derek's shoulders - that he's completely stilled on top of him as well - and a thrill of terror runs through his body because he wants this -

_Oh god, he wants this_.

\- but he hadn't expected it to happen like this, and now Derek looks worried and _oh god_...

" _Stiles?_ " He asks, voice low, ragged, breathy. Just the sound of it sends a thrill through Stiles body. If he weren't already hard, he would be now.

"Stiles?" Derek asks again, voice becoming more concerned, "Are you okay? I-"

" _Yeah_ ," Stiles mutters, and it comes out as a half-moan. His body trembles, fingers unclenching from Derek's shoulders. He shifts on his cock -

_Oh god, he's sitting on Derek's cock._

\- and the feeling causes him to throw his head back, letting out a small whimper before his hand flies up, clamping over his mouth. He wants this, and maybe he hadn't expected it to happen like this, but Derek feels _so good_ inside of him and -

"Are you sure?" Derek asks, still worried. When Stiles looks back down at him, his eyes are wide, lips parted, red from being kissed. But there's also a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and his fingers are still holding tightly onto his hips and _oh god_ , if he doesn't start moving soon, Stiles is going to _lose it_.

" _I'm sure, I'm sure_ ," Stiles hears himself murmuring out in a small voice, and he distantly wonders if he's still kind of losing time. If he'll remember this in the morning. But when Derek still doesn't move, he really can't bring himself to care. Stiles is acting at that, lifting his hips up before swiveling them down and letting out another loud, trembling moan from underneath his own hand.

Normally, he'd be freaking out right now, and he probably will later, but this is the first time that his sleepwalking has gotten him somewhere he wants to be and Stiles _really_ can't bring himself to give a shit right now, especially when Derek finally takes his answer seriously, gripping his hips roughly and thrusting up into him.

And while Stiles wants so terribly to do something sexy - he's riding Derek's _dick_ , for fuck's sake - he can't help the way that he slumps forward as soon as Derek begins thrusting, face pressed into the crook of his neck.  Each ragged thrust sends a whimper from his lips, and before long, he's clutching onto Derek, muttering out half-awake words of encouragement against his neck.

" _Fuck, just like that,"_ He hears himself saying in a distant voice, " _Right there, right there, oh god, Derek-_ "

And he hears Derek muttering out a soft, _"Fuck, Stiles_ ," before he's reaching up, pulling his head away from his neck and dragging him down for a wet, sloppy kiss, thrusting impossibly deeper into him.

Derek's thrusts up are uneven, jagged, but so are Stiles' thrusts downward and he can't really care, not now. Not with how good it feels, and not with how Derek tastes in his mouth and feels inside of him. His legs ache from the stress of holding himself up, but he doesn't care. He can't.

He moans into Derek's mouth, loud and needy, and the other man swallows it. One of his hands lets go of his hips to reach down, wrapping around his cock, and Stiles pulls back at that. It's gross and sloppy, and a long string of spit connects their lips before breaking when Stiles eventually pulls away far enough, but Derek's hand feels so good on him and everything is so intense and -

" _Please, Derek_ ," He hears himself whining out, voice small, high, and his actions speed up, fist pumping in time - or trying to - with his thrusts.

"Come on," Stiles hears Derek murmur in a low, breathy voice, "Come on, come for me, Stiles."

And that's it. Stiles stills on top of him, legs clenching as he comes, thick and hot across himself and Derek's hand and chest, clamping a hand over his mouth as he moans, low and ragged.

Derek keeps moving, pumping his hips in quick, shallow thrusts, working him through his orgasm, and just as the sensation becomes too much for Stiles, he stills as well, pressing his face into his chest. They're like that for a few moments, just breathing, coming down - or _waking up_ , in Stiles' case.

By the time that Derek pulls out, he's fully awake and aware, and while he can't quite remember how he got there - he vaguely remembers being in Derek's apartment and having a panic attack and kissing him - he can't say that he's unhappy with the outcome. Once again, he hadn't expected it to happen _like this_ , but he can't say that he didn't want it.

He leans in, just as Derek finishes cleaning himself off, to press a kiss to his lips, but the other man stops him.

"Stiles," He says, voice hard, stern, and despite the fact that they just had completely _mind blowing_ sex, he looks serious - maybe even a little angry - when Stiles pulls back to look at him.

"Yes?" His voice sounds sarcastic, maybe a little annoyed in his own ears.

"Were you losing time?"

Stiles swallows hard. Derek will know if he's lying, and while he particularly doesn't want to tell the truth, worried that it'll ruin what just happened, he knows he has to. "Yeah," He mutters, but when he sees Derek's face fall, he adds, "Only in the beginning. I remember the rest though and-"

" _Stiles_ ," Derek interrupts, voice worried, scared, apologetic, "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"You didn't do anything wrong," Stiles insists, standing as Derek does, watching him pull on his pants. "I wanted this," He insists, "I swear."

And while he knows that Derek is reluctant, apparently the other man can tell that he's telling the truth, because his body relaxes, even just slightly. He sighs, "I didn't want to take advantage of you."

"You didn't!" Stiles exclaims, "I said I wanted this, okay? I mean, next time, I'd prefer to remember _all of it_ , but you know, we can work on that."

Derek snorts, "Next time?"

And at that, Stiles steps forward. When Derek doesn't step back, he takes it as a good sign, hands reaching out for his still-naked hips. "Yeah," He murmurs, smiling slightly, "I mean, if you want there to be a next time."

And at that, Derek is letting out a little growl, leaning in to press their lips together.


End file.
